


Slippery Slope

by DilynAliceBlake



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Incest, Kinky, M/M, Twincest, Voyeurism, as in roman is feeling some internal conflict about his decisions, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilynAliceBlake/pseuds/DilynAliceBlake
Summary: (Used to be titled "Blurred Lines") To give you an idea of the direction of this story, in my drafts it's titled "Lost to Lust."  Roman walks in on Remus masturbating in the middle of the living room like the thrill seeking exhibitionist that he is.  And then-  And then-  Well, he didn't exactly turn around and leave, did he?  From there, it's possible things got out of hand.  Pun NOT intended.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

Exhibitionism is only one of the many kinks that Remus likes to dally in. There’s no point in masturbating in direct sight of the front door if there isn’t a risk of anyone walking in on him. He still isn’t quite expecting the thrill that races through him when someone _ walks in on him _ . When  _ Roman _ walks in on him.

Roman doesn’t walk in on it on purpose. He isn’t planning to stand in the doorway like a royal dunce while Remus ‘polishes his weapon,’ so to speak. But something in him freezes at the sight of Remus on their couch, pants around his ankles and cock jutting proudly as he pants.

“Oh, hey Roman,” Remus tosses out casually, and his strokes don’t even stutter.

“I- You- Have you no shame?” Roman splutters, eyes darting from Remus’ erection, to his brother’s face, to the suddenly vitally interesting curtains. The way they cast shadows is absolutely enthralling, because if he doesn’t focus on something to distract himself then his eyes wander of their own accord right back to the sight of Remus with his legs spread.

Remus snorts at the question. “Me? Shame?  _ Hardly _ .”

The emphasis on ‘hard’ does not make Roman’s heart speed up. Not one little bit. “Couldn’t you do that somewhere else? You have a room!” It’s not unreasonable to expect Remus to do something like this in  _ private _ is it? Not that he wasn’t alone when he started, but courtesy surely demands that he relocate or cease if walked in upon.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Ro. It’s not like I’m gonna make you-  _ mmm! _ \- stand there and watch.”

Remus gasps out the last word, thinking about Roman _ watching _ . Thinking about Roman standing there in the doorway while he- Oh, that thought is more arousing than he was expecting. Something to explore in future fantasies later, he supposes.

“Besides,” he adds, fondling his balls and flashing a coy grin when Roman darts another glance his way, “I’m almost done.”

Looking away isn’t helping Roman one bit. Not with the way Remus is panting. Not with the way the couch whispers with each shift of his weight.  _ ‘Schllk schllk schllk.’  _ The strokes are audible and Roman knows from the wet sound that he must be absolutely dripping. Almost done, indeed. Roman bites his own tongue to prevent a moan from slipping out when his traitorous eyes steal another glimpse. The nerve of Remus, to make eyes at him like that. Encouraging, inviting, alluring...Roman needs to get a grip on himself (and Remus’ hands look so good gripping his cock, but that is not the point here, this is not appropriate in the least and he needs to put an end to it.)

“I am your  _ brother _ ,” he voices desperately, trying to remind himself and Remus both. Trying to talk some sanity back into the world, because his must have been slipping since he opened the door. There’s no other explanation for the things he’s thinking or the way his mouth waters at- It's _Remus_! That fact somehow fails to convince his libido to settle. The heat in his blood must be hellfire, and Roman wonders if there was ever any hope for him if this is what it's like to be damned.

“You know…” Remus muses, and it’s in that tone of voice that has always meant trouble. “I think I’m kind of into it.”

“Remus!” Roman tries to reprimand, but arousal has spilled past his defenses and into his voice. His face is flushed and he’s watching avidly when Remus finally comes. The whine that slips out from between his bitten lips makes it abundantly clear that Remus wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by desperate desire.

“Be sure to clean up after yourself,” he strains out over the rush in his ears and the drum of his heartbeat. Remus is lost to blissful afterglow, and Roman retreats in shame to attend to his own erection.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no smut in this chapter, sorry xp

“I am not-” Roman cuts off, looking around both ways as if someone is going to pop out of the woodwork in their empty home. His voice drops to a delicate whisper on the last word, barely allowing a hiss through his teeth to put name to the concept. "I’m not _incestuous_.” Remus has not yet had a chance to say anything at all about what transpired the previous evening, not that he would have risked bringing it up somewhere Roman had an easy escape.

“It was an accident!” Roman insists as he closes the coffee pot aggressively, pressing start as if the button to brew can end the embarrassment of the conversation.

“Wow, methinks the lady doth protest too much. The last time you were this adamant about something you were still in the closet, and we both know how that played out.” (Roman had, admittedly, made something of an ordeal of his supposed straightness at one point.)

“I am an upstanding citizen!” Roman pointedly asserts, but his eyes linger on Remus’ form in ways they hadn’t before. There was no going back from the knowledge he had gained. He knew what Remus looked like in the throws of passion, and worse still, he knew how arousing such a sight could be. He takes a sip of his coffee quick enough to burn his tongue and feels like it’s comeuppance for lying.

“Okay, listen, I’m not arguing, but hear me out.”

Roman should say no. He should storm out before Remus can voice whatever ill advised suggestion he was undoubtedly about to make. But that was the thing about Remus. His ideas were always awful, and Roman should never go along with them, but somehow his twin was always so _convincing_ when he made his case. And maybe, deep down underneath all the denial, Roman, just a little bit, wanted to be convinced. So he didn’t shut Remus down before he could start.

“I’m not going to be a puppet in whatever twisted fantasies you’ve cooked up,” Roman said, but he sat down as he said it, and from the other side of the table, Remus began to present his argument. If Roman hadn’t fled then he was already halfway to victory. Showing all his teeth in a way that made clear he had predicted such an objection, and looking far too smug at Roman’s continued presence, Remus used his devil’s tongue to paint a picture.

“Consider, dear bro o’ mine: Masturbating isn’t incest. If we just happened to be in the same room, each minding our own business… Would it really be so different from when we used to share a room?”

It would absolutely be different. With the lights on, and neither of them courteously pretending to be sleeping, each deliberately in full view as they both enjoyed the other’s presence, it would without a doubt be crossing a line. A line that Roman had already been edging yesterday, when he stayed to see Remus come, and then stroked off to the memory of his moans.

“I am considering,” Roman’s still stinging mouth says before reason can catch up with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thinking i may do next chapter from remus' pov, which is why this cuts off so early.

“Are you still considering?” Remus casually asks from the other side of a suddenly very open shower curtain. He’s leaning against the wall of the shower, water streaming down over him and dick already firm in his grip.

Roman’s toothbrush clatters noisily into the sink, and somewhere his brain is trying to tell him that this is what he gets for putting off giving Remus a solid answer. Most of his thoughts, however, have screeched to a halt at the sight of slippery, sudsy, dripping wet man-hunk currently propositioning him. Mane of a silver stallion, those arms are toned. Has Remus always been so alluringly muscled?

“Speechless already?” Remus teases, “I’m flattered.”

“I’m not-” Roman objects, “It’s not my fault you’re so-” He cuts himself off before he can say something embarrassing about sexy hips or defined abs. “I was still debating my answer, yes,” Roman finally settles for, closing his eyes for a moment against Remus’ soaking darkened curls. Any time it rains now he’s going to remember this sight, and Remus’ head isn’t the only place those curls reside. Roman berates himself for flushing at the sight of Remus’ pubic hair of all things, but it’s half-hearted at best. 

He mentally braces himself before opening his eyes again, intending to reject Remus like he should have from the very beginning of this insanity. Except, when Roman’s vision comes back online , Remus’ motions have stopped. He’s been waiting patiently for Roman to look at him again, and the way he thrusts into his fist when he resumes playing with himself is all showmanship. Roman feels flattered and powerful and worryingly seduced.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pov ended up more mixed than anything but it is a chapter written so im posting it

Remus watches Roman’s face at his every moan like Roman’s expressions are handcrafted gifts, desperate for positive reception of his efforts.

"Come on Ro, it's just masturbation," Remus goads, and doesn't believe it for a second. Once Roman realizes that he’s in control of the situation, the tension spikes. All he would have to do to stop Remus would be look away. The idea that everything Remus is doing is  _ for his enjoyment,  _ specifically, is eating away at his self control. The heat is oppressive, it’s hard to breathe, and Roman can’t convince himself that it’s just a side effect of the shower steam. 

When Roman starts getting noticeably hard, Remus stops his motions again. The frustration on Roman’s face at the change in the rules of their game is beautiful. He can’t ask Remus why he stopped without admitting that he wishes Remus hadn’t. Roman’s glare is as articulate as any words in conveying that he wants Remus to continue, but the duke lets his gaze slide down to where Roman’s straining against pajama bottoms and quirks an eyebrow in challenge. His meaning is understood immediately, but Roman’s hands stall on the tie at his waist. It would be another step well past what is proper, his own active participation in this depravity, but at the same time… Remus wants him to do it. His brother wants to watch him stroke off to the sight of him naked and wet in the shower, wants to see how hard he is and get off in turn.

He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. Then again, he shouldn’t be watching Remus in the shower with hungry eyes, either. How much of a difference does it make, really, if he gets off here and now instead of afterwards in his room. He’d be jacking off to Remus either way. There’s no circumventing the shame Roman is bound to feel, but there is no reason to let that fact stymie his current pleasure.

He tugs the strings undone and slides the waistband of his pants down, oh so slowly. The delay starts out as a way to soothe his nerves and give himself time for his conscience to talk him out of it, but the way Remus’ eyes light up with every additional bit of his own skin on display sends a shiver down his spine. When he pulls his cock out, he is sure that the flush on Remus’ face is from more than the heat.

“Oh,” Remus breathes out, and then “Oh, oh,  _ oh _ ,” as Roman strokes himself. Suddenly Remus is matching his movements stroke for stroke, and they aren’t just masturbating in front of each other. This isn’t just them getting off to the sight or thought of each other. They are doing this  _ together _ , and Roman has to bite his lip to keep from pleading for more. When he speeds up, so does Remus, and the desire to draw this out as long as possible has him stilling his movements every time one of them gets close. 

By the seven muses, he thought that Remus was scrumptious when he was moaning, but that was nothing compared to the near sobbing pleas his voice is warbling out now. Roman wonders how long he could keep edging him like this before Remus lost control, but he knows that eventually the water will go cold. He consoles himself with the thought that such things can be saved for the future, before remembering that he wasn’t supposed to agree to this at all. 

Remus, for his part, is holding on by mere threads, and the only thing stopping him from begging Roman outright to let him come is the knowledge that to do so would cross the line that’s keeping Roman comfortable enough to be here. Still, when he comes, he can’t help but keen out Roman’s name, and when Roman follows he moans out his.


End file.
